


Sleeping Beauty

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adorable, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Sleep, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 16:45:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18210932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: Sam thinks Rowena is beautiful when she sleeps.





	Sleeping Beauty

There were three things Sam was absolutely certain of: one, it was late; two, he was dead tired; and three, Rowena was beautiful when she slept.

His eyes stayed locked on the witch, observing her, taking her in. Absorbing the perfection she was, so calm, so at peace. She trusted him at her weakest, at her most vulnerable. Trusted him not to take advantage, not to hurt her and betray her. Trusted him to love her.

Sam swore never to do anything to lose that trust he'd worked so hard to earn.

She was showing him the newest grimoire she'd acquired — a centuries-old, expensive piece written by one of the greatest witches that ever lived that she'd outbid another witch for at an auction, she'd bragged proudly — when she fell asleep on the couch right beside him, head on his shoulder, the tome limp in her lap. Her mouth was slightly open, lips puckered in a small pout, breathing calm and even, comfortable. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a crimson cascade, thick, rich curls bouncing with each rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

She was a breathtaking sight, a forest nymph resting atop a meadow under the shadow of a tall tree, peaceful and warm. For once rid of fear that had taken over her life two years ago, rid of nightmares that haunted almost every single one of her dreams. Safe, against all odds.

A pang of guilt shot through Sam, small but sharp, pricking at his heart like tiny needles. He didn't want to move her, didn't want to disturb the perfection. But he knew Rowena enough to know she preferred their bed, big and comfortable and soft, to the tiny couch. And more than that, she preferred to sleep with him rather than alone.

Sam stood up carefully, one hand gently pressed to Rowena's cheek to hold her head up. She nuzzled into his palm, eased into it as if it were a pillow, a small sound that sounded suspiciously like a purr falling from her mouth. A smile, big, loving, flashed over Sam's face, set it alight. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who sassed everyone around, who had a sarcastic response to everything and threw deadly glares at everyone and everything she deemed even mildly offensive. The same witch who could — he was sure of that — tear the world apart with just a few words of Latin and a flash of purple in her eyes.

He was happy he got to see both sides of her. Happy she let him see them, let him into her life and trusted him with her all.

He was a lucky man.

With utmost tenderness, Sam scooped Rowena up into his arms. She was as light as she was tiny, a feather in human form. She shifted, and Sam instantly stiffened, scared that he'd woken her, but instead of opening her eyes the witch curled up into his chest like a kitten, a tiny, pale ball in his arms. He let out a breath of relief.

"Always teasing, aren't you?" he muttered softly under his breath, the corners of his mouth twitching with a smile. "Even when you're asleep."

As if to respond, Rowena let out a tiny moan, then buried her nose deeper into his shirt.

Sam chuckled. "Never change."

He loved her as she was. Strong. Independent. Fierce. Rough around the edges and soft underneath. A hardcover book hiding the sweetest, loveliest story within its pages. Tough for everyone but him. He was the only one privileged to see behind her walls, to see her weak and vulnerable and scared. Just as she was for him. Rowena understood him like no one ever had, like even Dean never could. She knew him to the depths of his soul and loved what she saw there, loved all his strengths and weaknesses as much as he loved hers.

It was an unexpected love; they were an unconventional couple, and the looks they got in public proved that. But they didn't care a single bit. If anything, their strangeness only made them love each other more. Their less than ideal past (to say the least), the age difference, hell, even the height difference — none of it mattered.

What mattered was that they understood each other. That they loved each other. No one could ever take that away from them.

Sam carried Rowena to the bedroom. He held her to him, and she clung to him like a child, curled up into him further. Her fingers curled into his shirt, clutching so hard her pale knuckles turned white as sheets. An instinct. A wordless plea of, "Don't leave me." Sam swore never to even think of doing so.

Just as he was about to lower her onto the bed, Rowena's eyes snapped half open. "Sam?" she whispered, dazed, confused. She blinked. "What's going on?"

"You fell asleep on the couch," he explained, cursing himself for not being careful enough. "I'm taking you to bed."

The witch smiled, teasing, playful. "My knight in shining armor, always looking after me."

"Someone has to," Sam joked with a chuckle. "Come on."

He eased her on the bed and pulled a couple of blankets over her. It was a cold night, and while the Bunker was warm, Sam wasn't taking any chances.

Rowena grabbed his hand. "You staying?"

"Of course," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He couldn't blame her for wanting to make sure. From what she'd told him, the last man who'd told her he loved her had abandoned her only mere moments after, leaving her bloody and half-dead with a screaming infant in her arms. Sam would never do that. He would never leave her. Never hurt her. Never again. "Just going to change."

"Be quick."

He was.

As soon as he was in bed, Rowena curled up against him, back turned to him, her favorite position ever since they'd started sleeping together. Sam put an arm around her, palm resting on her bare stomach. He drew his knees up; her butt and thighs pressed into them as if she were sitting on them, feet brushing against his shins.

His body, big, massive, framed her small one. She fit perfectly against him, a custom made puzzle piece. They were made for each other. Fulfilled each other. Loved each other. Fate be damned.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by OswinTheStrange.


End file.
